


Stay With Me. . .

by authorallyy



Category: 1940 - Fandom, Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Bootleg, Burlesque, F/M, Filming, Gay Sex, Hidden Relationships, Jazz Club, M/M, Multi, NSFW, One Night Stands, Smut, decade, fourties, mafia, parts in screenplay, screenplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:49:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authorallyy/pseuds/authorallyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I guess it's not true that I’m not good at a one night stand, but I still need love because I’m just a man, these things never seem to go to plan, I don't want you to leave will you hold my hand.."</p><p>Jack was an film maker, afraid of romance. Mark was the hopeless romantic who owned the club. In 1940s’ Cincinnati, they find something that neither thought they would get in the week Jack was staying--Love. The idea terrifies them.. and that's why they need each other so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

The lights dimmed, the men around me began to clap. As a waitress passed with drinks, I twisted my cold glass around on the bar. I sat back on it, having a front row seat to the show from the bar. Smoke twisted around me, the ashtrays littering the tables already filled with ashes as the feathered girl stepped from the curtains and put on her act. I had no interest in the burlesque show, my eyes were instead trained on the club owner, who was staring back at the me with no intention to look away.


	2. Chapter 1

 

It started a week ago, when I finally landed in town, fresh from Ireland. The only reason why I wasn’t in Hollywood where the big boys where, was because I had the chance to find work here before I take the train to California.

Taking a town car as I arrived, I found the hotel and carried my bags inside. The hotel was beautiful, accented with gold pieces and dark furniture. I stole one of the trollies, to carry my number of chests. No, only one duffle was set for what was actually for me-- the rest held my equipment. My precious cameras and all its necessities.

I walked across the fine rug that centered the furniture, and checked myself in. While the older man was getting my key, he gave me a sideways look.

“You look like hell, my boy. If you have no big plans in the morning, the club is always a good place to get a good quality drink.” He said, pulling the key from a nail.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I spoke, taking the key.

“Good, just across the street. Enjoy your stay, Mr. McLoughlin,.” he spoke, giving me a nod as a bellhop took the trolley and followed me to the elevator, to my floor.

The room was nothing to brag about, but definitely better than some places I stayed in. The bed was large and comfortable, the window directly overlooking the street below. The club was already bright, as the sun set after the long day I had traveling here. I wasn’t used to the city, wasn’t used to the large buildings and cramped streets.I have a week to get used to it, before Hollywood.

the next morning I had a meeting with the production manager for the film I’d be directing while here, which immediately told me that a visit to the club was out of the question.  I walked up to the  the window getting a better look out the window, looking down to the club below.  

Then again, I’d kill for a whiskey on the rocks to end the day.

Before I went anywhere, I set up my things and put a comb through my hair, spritzed my neck with the nearly empty bottle of cologne and straightened the tie at my neck. Locking the door,  I was out the lobby doors just as the city was cascaded in the last minutes of light.

The club itself was a three story building, the bottom level must be for the club. The other two for the owner's personal home, I would guess. The front had neon signs telling of the bar and the burlesque shows on Fridays. Stepping inside, it felt like a whole different world. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, as many sat around enjoying the Jazz playing, a low beat as a soft voiced-woman [sang](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sB6HY8r983c).

_I’m gonna fight them off, I seven nation army couldn't hold me off.._

The woman had a pretty voice, as she turned the men into buying another drink as they listened. I fell for it too, as I drifted past the smokers to the glittering bar. Finding a seat in the center, I ordered what I wanted and turned to watch her sing, curiously.

_You're gonna hear about it, every single one's got a story to tell.._

As I got my drink, I noticed a lot of them were snapping their fingers to the beat. Admittingly, I didn't notice till I spotted a muscular arm peeking from the curtains on the side, snapping along with everyone.

The stage area hand a dance floor before it, and a few small stables littering the sides. the area was lowered, leaving the foot difference a hazard. The topmost level was lined with railing though, which made it easy to just walk up to the metal railing and catch a better look at the mystery man.

From here, I got the whole arm and a sliver of his dark slacks. Before I could blink the man turned on his foot ot look from backstage at the show. He was fairly tanned, his shirt open at the collar. His suspenders framed his torso nicely, his dark slacks and stubble making his white dress shirt stand out as he stood backstage. His hair was pushed back, no grease or other product in it like a lot of men were sporting.

I watched him glance around at the crowd, his eyes finding me. I let myself look back to the stage as it ended, and I clapped along with the crowd. As the woman left, someone else came out and started some upbeat song that I didn't recognize. Men were pulling their dates to the floor, as it filled with dancing people. I stayed where I was taking sips from my drink.

The feel of the club was definitely friendly. If I was moving here this would definitely be a frequent stop. The singers were good, the music made you want to dance, and the drinks melted your thoughts away. Just like a club should be. Looking down from the dancing crowd, I just noticed the mysterious man pop from nowhere to slip my drink from my hand.

“New here?” He asked, his American accent deep but calm. I watched him with my drink, as he stepped up the short set of stairs between levels.

“Is it that obvious? Well, at least now it is.” I replied, following my drink as he walked around the bar with it. I watched him refill it as he spoke.

“Well that settles my suspicions. I know every face that comes through my doors, and you, are not one of them. What’s an Irishman doing so far away from home?” He smirked lightly, slipping my refilled drink in front of me before leaning on the bar.

“Business, to make it simple,” I replied, nodding a thank you as I take another sip of the refreshed drink.

Ah, a businessman. What’s so complicated?” He asked, as I leaned on the bar with him.

“Me.” I smirked lightly, taking a longer sip as my eyes never left him. He had terribly beautiful brown eyes that drew me in.

“And who are you?” he asked softly, as we leaned closer.

“Jack. Jack McLoughlin.” I replied.

I watched him smirk again. “Well Mr McLoughlin, your dreamboat blue eyes are beautiful enough to get a free drink.”

His comment made me give a second take. He continued before I had a chance to question his comment.

“Now mind me, I have my actual job to get to.” He then rounded the bar .

“And what is your real job? I called, now finished with him.

“Owner of the club you're sitting in.” With a sideways smirk and a wink that felt like I only thought I saw , he was down the stairs and off to who knows where, now lost in the people.

He intrigued me too much for my own good. I sat, listening to the band and the different performers sing, as i sipped on mow my fourth whiskey. I blame that.

Just as the club was closing he had swept me up, leaving the bartender to close up, and led me somewhere private. I followed his lead willingly, though having his warm lips glued to my neck as we found privacy didn't help much. Soon he had me against the storeroom wall, my tie barely hanging off my neck.

His lips were something out of this world. Warm. Soft. Skilled. He enjoyed the noises I made as he nibbled around my neck, finding my sensitive spots I didn't know I had. Soon he had me moaning, biting him back for the damage he’s probably done on my neck.

The storeroom didn't last, though. Once the first bottle of wine fell and shattered behind us, he was pulling me by the hand upstairs, to his room. He was yanking off my tie completely in the hall, as I unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way. He had me on the bed, but once we slipped off our trousers and his underwear was thrown to the armchair, I flipped us over on his bed and let my lips lead me down his body, leaving little bruises with my lips and teeth as I crept closer to his navel. I was paid back in the needful moans that came from him and the growing member pressing against my chest.

And.. And the rest is a blur. A blur of pleasure and heat and passion and satisfaction that left me barely coherent as I woke the next morning.

It was the early hours of the day, the sun barely peeking through the curtains when I sat up lazily. It took all my strength not to curl back around the warm, slumbering man I finally met as Mark but, the day beckoned, or more like my morning meeting did. I carefully stood and found my underwear , then the rest of my suit. Getting dressed I looked over at Mark.

No, this was what this was. A one night stand. I decided against scrawling a note on some loose papers he had on his personal desk, and I just left, following the way I came last night. Down the stairs and to the door, which thankfully easily unlocked from the inside.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did do a considerably larger amount of research for this. About the only thing I slipped on was the Mafia, apparently Cincinnati was very low key when it came to that. If theres anything that'll make it more historically accurate, I'd love to know for the future chapters.

I woke up late in the morning, the bed next to me cold as always. I turned to my back, rubbing my eyes sleepily as memories flooded my brain. Our new singer Juliet, the crowd loving her, and oh-- oh, the mysterious Irishman who was named Jack. A smile came to my face. I was tired of the same faces in the club. From his looks to his beautiful accent, he was pulling on the heartstrings.

Oh, and the night that followed. It might have costed me an expensive bottle of imported wine, but it was worth a hundred broken bottles if I could say so. Jack took me on a trip, he was addictive in all the right ways.

Where was the dreamboat with blue eyes anyway?

Sitting up, the first thing I noticed was that his clothes were missing. The bath door was open with no shadow of a man poking from it. Did he really leave early the morning? My heart sank. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for him. He was a businessman, as he said. Business. he had to leave for business.

Though, the things he could do with that Irish tongue of his.. maybe he was skilled through one night stands. Maybe things were different in Ireland.

I didn’t dwell on it for too long, when I knock came at the door. Spurting a list of curses that would earn a skillful slap from my mother,  I jumped up and slipped on some actual clothing. Slipping on a fresh pair of slacks and a white button up, I was barely fixing my tie when _he_ walked in.

He was a large man, taller than me and thicker in size. It wasn’t his size that terrified me, though.

He was Cincinnati's leader in the Mafia. Though the Mafia here wasn't terribly big, who was here knew what they were doing, and made sure to do it right.

Which brings me into the equation. Tunnels, underneath the city, lead them to a trapdoor that runs straight into the underground portion of the storeroom. Finding this, the Mafia had tricked me into letting them use the empty space as a main storage center for their goods before taking them from or into town. By trick, I mean with a gun firmly pressed against my head. Anything from guns to women, it was held in the drafty room under my club and home.

“Long time, no see,”  I spoke, looking away to the mirror to check my collars.

“Oh I could never miss a visit with you, Mr. Fischbach.” Glancing to him, he stood now with two other goons looming in the hall down to the bar.

“And what do you need me personally for, Jafari?” He questioned, turning forward towards the man. Jafari let out a low chuckle.

“Just letting you know what we’re doing, so you don't kick any girls out. We’re testing the waters here before shipping them off, to see if Cincinnati needs girls of--ahem--comfort.”

I just rose my eyebrow, slightly baffled at his request. “You’re bringing trade girls into my club? No, I won’t allow it.”

“Oh? Might I remind you who has control here, Fischbach.” he tutted lightly, cocking his head.

“I don't care, the club isn't a place for call-girls to wander--”

“A club is the perfect setting for these girls, Mr Fischbach. I’m not taking a no, I’m not taking a yes, either. This isn’t your decision.” he said, before he started to turn away.

A spike a courage ran up my spine. “Like hell, it is! I’ve built this club from my sweat and tears, I rather die than see it all be turned into some whore house--”

I didn't even see it coming. The cane came out of nowhere, its metal embellished handle butting me in the face, hard. My back found the edge of the bed, making me grasp the sheets at my sides as I slipped to my knees, unprepared for the blow. Jafari then grabbed my scruffy jaw roughly, as if admiring the blood I felt trickle down my lip.

“See this as a warning, Mr Fischbach. Keep your head down like a good little bar mouse and let us do our work. We’ll talk soon.” He grumbled, before letting go and waltzing out.

I let out a low growl as the blood from my nose dripped onto the white shirt, staining it.

Standing, I made my way to the bathroom to look at the damage. Two of the embellishments broke the skin, both at my nose. My nose in itself looked like it was in tact, which was a relief. Balling up toilet paper, I started working on getting my nose to stop bleeding, my other hand unbuttoning the shirt with a growing bloody stain.

 

* * *

  


The day was slow. I auditioned a handful of girls wanting to sing, and heard a new number from my lead male singer, Danny. Meanwhile girls I never recognized before darted from the storeroom every so often, to get a look at the place. I tried to be hospital but only earned wide eyes and scurrying back to safely.

By now, my nose had swelled just enough to make the thin, red lines noticeable. Danny had noticed first, as he got ready to show me his new song.

“Who popped ya?” He asked, adjusting his mic to fit his height.

“Oh, uh,” Mark shoved his hands in his pockets as he caught a glimpse of another call-girl from the back. “Some gorrilla of a guy got a lucky hit in before I threw him out last night.”

The fuzzy-haired man nodded, like he understood the position of the little guy. Mark might have him in muscle-- the scrawny singer was more of a musician--but he had him in height. “Well hopefully that heals over nicely, The girls backstage would be disappointed,” Danny winked.

“Sing your number, Dan.” I said, rolling my eyes.

Danny was one like me, a queer. He thought, had somehow found a boyfriend to catch kisses with before every show. Arin was happy to be there for his lover every night he could. Thankfully for the two, the kept it hidden enough that the crowds in the club were none-the-wiser. I had noticed though, how Arin caught a seat up front and sipped his drink as he watched Danny. The love in his eyes, everyone in the room must be blind. I wasn’t, I was just jealous.

Last night though, last night was risky. I saw it in Jack’s eyes though, felt the steady burn of attraction. From the moment my hand brushed the Irishman's fingers I knew I needed to have him.

And for one night, I did.

He was probably history now, never to step foot in his club again. The thought was simply painful. I had never seen another gay man in Cincinnati and I let the only other one slip through my fingers like sand. Not that I had a firm hold in the first place. Not like I could have.

I let out a sigh, my foot tapping to the beat of the song. I felt like _I_ needed the drink. Danny was oblvious, lost in his own world on the stage.

I was hopeless. Lost in the thoughts of what could have been, my stomach twisting uncomfortably as the thought set in. It’ll never happen. I was destined to live alone, because I’d never find another person to feel so intimate with. I would never find another person who feels the same was as I do.

And most definitely, I will never meet someone as catching as Jack.

just as Danny finished up, I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard the door open. Looking back from where I stood,  I watched as a few men, all dressed sharply came in laughing lightly. It wasn’t like we got many people during the day, while most were working. The normal bartender wasn’t here, there was no one at the bar. Giving Danny an appreciative clap, I walked up to the bar area and slipped passed the counter.

“Got off early fellas? What’ll it be.” Mark glanced at the group, his eyes pausing at the familiar face pailing in the center of the group. The men, not noticing, named their drinks while Jack stayed quiet. Mark made their drinks, finally looking away before sliding each a cup. He then made a whiskey on the rocks, special for the timid Irishman. Sliding to him, his hand hesitated around the cold glass, before he let go and went back to what he was doing before, now with his heart jumping from his chest.


	4. Chapter 3

I had more time than I thought this morning, finding that the directors called last night, tell me the meeting was postponed till later this afternoon. We were to meet here, at my hotel to talk.

So, I took a shower so I didn't smell like sex and waited for the four other men to meet me here. I sat downstairs, in one of the luxurious couches and people came and left. From the windowed front doors, I could watch the club across the street.

I couldn't lie, Mark had tainted my mind. I could see the sleeping shape behind my eyelids, his bare, freckled back barely touched by the light. Even with only a memory he felt like he could just reach out and trace shapes on the older mans back.

Another wave of-- something hit me. I couldn't place it, it fell somewhere between want and pleasure. Something floaty, something that made me want to walk across the street and to the likely vacant club.

No, no, I couldn't.

He probably didn't want to see me anyway, after waking up without me, without a note. What am I saying, I don't want to see him either.

Then why was my foot tapping impatiently as I stared off across the street? Why was my mind flooded with memories of last night for the hundredth time this morning? I let out a soft sigh. It was taboo anyway, no use dwelling on it. I'd have my head beaten in, or worse my film career crushed of anyone found out. I couldn't afford coming back to that club, at all in the next week.

 

* * *

 

It was about three in the afternoon when the four men arrived. We greet each other, introduced each other, and chatted lightly about the film at hand. It was a romance, about a man falling in love with a dancer. I was right up my alley, similar to a movie I filmed in Ireland.

"-good idea Jones, how about we ask the club owner if we could use his place during the day?" One man said, Anthony Mayfield who was the co-director with me. I froze at his suggestion. "You been to it yet, Jack?"

I cleared my throat, nodding lightly. "It's a nice place, plenty of room to film."

Before I knew it we were all making our way over the the club. I hung back, hopefully hidden by the laughing men leading me. The doors were open, the club close to empty. It was odd, being in such a social place while it's so vacant. The windows let in enough light to glance off the end of the bar, off the leather barstools closest to the door. Farther in, I saw the band set up, rounding the end of a song. A man with curly, thick hair looked up to the door from his mic as we entered. Only one person clapped, and as he turned to step up the stairs I saw it as the owner.

Mark.

I took a breath as we all sat at the bar, just out of the sun, and as Mark came to serve us drinks. My voice caught as he noticed me, and didn't look away as the men around me named their drinks.

He looked away to make them, sliding glasses to each man. He then poured me a whiskey, sliding the cold glass to me. Our eyes met again, before he pulled away and wiped his hands on a bar cloth.

Taking a sip to calm myself, I watched as Jones spoke up.

"We're looking for the owner, is he in?" he asked, watching as Mark rounded the lip of the bar.

"Thats me. What do you need?"

We let Jones explain, while I felt Mark's eyes find me every few words. He rubbed his forehead, pushing his thick hair from his face before running his fingers through it. The place was pretty dead, how could it be a problem?

"Just days, right? This isn't going to interfere with my club hours?" Mark asked skeptically, glancing at all of us this time.

"We wouldn't dare," Anthony spoke up, giving Mark a reassuring look.

Mark then hesitantly nodded. "Alright then boys, the club is yours to use during the day."

 

* * *

 

The next hour was a pain. The liquor didn't do much for my headache, as we all mulled over the script and how we were going to get shots in. I was titled the cameraman for most shots, their reasoning being that was the smallest of us all. With a huff, I agreed.

Just as work hours ended for most, the club began to fill to a steady buzz. The four men left, saying something about wives waiting at home. I was left then, to finish off my drink at the table tucked in the corner.

I ran my hand through my short hair. I'd be filming at the club I wanted to avoid. I'd be spending early mornings to as late as we could get away with in breathing space of Mark. We had to get this movie filmed within the week though, or all I had to film. I took a long sip from my drink. Here's to hoping Mark decides to leave me to work.

"So, a filmmaker?" called a deeper voice, one that made a shiver run up my spine. I looked up to see Mark walk over with a drink of his own, sliding into a seat across from me. "You never told me."

"You never asked," I replied, raising my eyebrow at the american.

We fell quiet, an unsettling silence filling the air around us. Without staring, I watched as he took a long drink from his glass. I took a chance to study him, his rounded jaw, the stubble littering his face, the curve of his lips as he took a drink.

"Tell me about it," Mark continued, catching my eyes. "About being a filmmaker."

Before I knew it, the rest of the night consisted of me, spilling my heart about film. About the two films I directed in Ireland, and how I landed a co-director job here, in the heart of Cincinnati. Mark was only too eager to listen, having a waitress bring us drinks as we needed them.

Of course I wasn't the only one who talked, I finally pushed the conversation to him.

"What about being a bar owner, eh?" I asked, taking a moment to sip my drink.

"Its boring compared to you. Now, I just manage the singers and make sure no one causes trouble. Before though, it was an uphill battle, with bills and making repairs. This uh, this place used to be my father's, before he died."

He waved me off before I could even open my mouth to apologize. "Dont worry, I dont need your sympathy. It was years ago." he took a sip of his own drink. "I had work up in Columbus, and didn't hear of it till I came back. I was crushed, I really wasn't ready for his death. It took me a year to get myself to walk in the abandoned club.

"I decided that he would be happier if I took his position as the owner of the club. I put my blood and sweat into this place, getting it to where it is now. I know he has to be smiling down on me." I watched as he stared into his drink.

How long have we been talking? Looking around, the place was as vacant as when I got here. The band was gone, the bustling dancers were gone, the men at the bar had been shooed out. Club hours were over.

"I honestly didn't expect to see you here again." He spoke again, his voice low, meant only for me. "I thought last night was the last time I'd get to see those dreamboat eyes."

I blinked lightly, my chest getting hit with another wave of whatever has been getting me all morning. His eyes were at mine, twinkling lightly under the soft lights.

"I didn't expect to be here either," I finally replied, fixating on my glass and the dark wood that made up the table. "I shouldn't really be here anyway, I have to film in the morning--" As I spoke, I stood to get my jacket. My fingers barely got hold of the hem when I felt his on my waist.

"Mark-- What are you--" He had easily pulled me to him, my arse landing on the edge of hte table.

"What do you mean you shouldn't be here?" he asked, his eyes serious. I didn't want to confront the elephant in the room.

"Because of this, Mark. Neither of us can afford getting caught." I sighed lightly. "Last night.."

"Jack, there's no one here.." he reassured, his hand moving to take mine. "What, do you regret last night?"

"No, dear god no." My mouth spoke before my mind caught up. My voice then caught before I said more, giving him the chance to gently pull me down, into his lap. My heart sped, feeling his warmth again.

"Then what's the problem?"  I felt his hot breath on my neck, as I looked away. My heart felt like it was in my throat, ready to come out.

I turned my head, welcomed by the fringe of his curly hair. "Me." I replied shortly, letting my chin press against his hair. I felt his nose press against my neck, before his lips. His kiss was gentle, as if comforting me. Wrapping an arm around his neck, I let myself relax. The feeling in my chest came back, and for once I welcomed it.

For the first time in a while, I relaxed. Sleep was one thing, but this.. it was different. Feeling his heartbeat, his gentle breath against my skin, it was comfortable in a way that I wasn't used to.

"Do you still want to leave?" Mark mumbled quietly, his hands loosening at my sides. I pulled from the close embrace, only to pull my eyes not to his own, but to the two, red notches in his nose.

"What the hell  happened to you?" I blurted, my hand mindlessly reaching for his cheek. My thumb caressed the side of the bridge, careful not to hurt him.

"Oh, oh." Mark sighed lightly. "Someone got a good hit on me, I'm fine." He reassured, his cheeks warm from contact.

I just gave him a look over as my reply. His nose was barely swollen, his eyes were still twinkling. My eyes slowly made their way down to his lips, slightly tinted pink from the cold of his glass.

"Are you gonna kiss me, or just stare?" Mark chuckled lightly, as he smiled.

I scoffed lightly at his cheeky reply, before leaning in. "You're lucky you're a good kisser," I said back, before placing my lips on his./

And we stayed like that, for who knows how long. It didn't go farther than a kiss, and it didn't need to. I was perfectly content with just..

Just enjoying each others company.

When my eyes began to droop,  I told him I had to go. I said that I'd be there in the morning, with my equipment, ready to film before anyone else. Finally Mark let go of his waist, and unlocked the door for him. Just before I bid him goodnight, he pulled me into the cover of the bar one more time and gave me a gentle kiss.

That had to be the reason why I was awake now, laying in bed as the moonlight cascaded around the room. I was wide awake, with Mark on my mind and in all honesty, I didn't mind a bit.

 

 


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been updating, I got a swift kick in the head by writers block, so I've been out for the count longer then I like. But I'm back! and I cant wait to jump into writing more of this, I really love this au. I might or might not have an unhealthy obsession with the 20s-50s. Whoops. || I do hope you like! Don't be afraid to bug me to update, it'll honestly help. ||

It was early in the morning, hopefully early enough that Jack wouldn't walk in on me cleaning. Just because I wasn't up and walking around last night, making sure everyone was doing their jobs, the place was left like a mess. Glasses were out on the lower bar where one would mix drinks, the tables were littered with crumbs and smudges, the candles at each table were just about pouring out onto the wood. I scrambled to clean what I could, to make Jack's to-be set more pleasing to the eye.

The door squeaked quietly open, and I turned to see.. not Jack.

 _Jafari_.

"What do you want," I grumbled, hardly hiding the face I was hoping for someone else.

"I have to check on you, as how those girls are doing." He quipped.

"I barely noticed them. It's not my business, anyway." I turned from him and continued wiping down the tables by the stage, grabbing a cup half full of a darker liquor.

"They're making business in your-- fine establishment, you should care about them." He then looked over to the door to the storage room, the small one I was allowed to have. "Seems like we already had a taker, I saw a wine stain in your storeroom and the broken bottle hidden in a washrag behind the wine box when I came through last night."

My face must have gone white, before turning into a rosy color. Thankfully, my back was turned. "I'll ask around," I finally said, clearing my throat. "The girls, see if whoever did it fesses up, no problem."

He gave me a noise of agreement, before I heard him step around the bar's floor. "Why the cleaning spree, Fischbach?" He asked, as I moved tables.

"Film crew is coming by, using the club on its off hours to shoot their movie." I replied curtly, walking up the short stairs and to the bar, past him.

"Hm, aren't you a busy bee," he remarked, before leaning on the table.

I walked him from the corner of my eye, as I cleaned the cloth in the sink. He just continued.

"Be honest with me Fischbach, have you been down in my cellar, messing with my goods?"

I turn to him looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "I have no interest in your goods. I rather not see it at all."

"Don't lie to me." Jafari growled, his expression turned serious.

"Why the hell would I need illegal guns or whatever the hell you have down there?" I said back, matching his tone.

"Why not? You seem to be the only one who knows about the cellar, right?" It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Of course, who would I tell?" I replied easily.

"I wouldn't know, some broad you're seeing, maybe. Just know, Fischbach, if secret gets out about this little operation we have here, you'll find your throat slit first, I promise you." His voice was like a growl, dangerous and threatening. And it made me gulp dryly.

And with that, he left. Out into the sun in the street.

And right outside, was Jack.

Jafari gave him a dirty look, before leaving him be, thankfully. Jack then stepped inside and looked at me with wide, blue eyes.

"Mark?" His voice squeaked, as my face drained of color.

My face went white. "Don't tell me you heard any of that."

The look on his face told me he did.

"Illegal guns? You're dealing with the crummy Mafia?" Jack said, exasperated.

"Forget all of it,"  I said slowly, processing it all. "I mean it. Dammit, I don't want you of all people mixed up in my mess." I grumbled, as I rounded the corner of the bar. Jack then scrambled to set the tripod with a heavy looking camera on its three feet. I set the rag down, before pushing the leg he couldn't get out the match the other two evenly. Jack just gave me a look.

It softened though, as he continued with his hands free. "How Mark? How the bloody hell do you get caught up in the Mafia?"

"Leave it, Jack." I grabbed the cloth again, turning from him, only to have him grab me by the shoulders and make me face him.

"Tell me, Mark. Please." I looked into his blue eyes, darker here where there was little light getting to them.

"I didn't mean to, alright?"  I started watching the worried expression grow. "They found me, wanted to use the large storage space underneath the club for their own uses, and.. and forced me to comply."  I didn't go into specifics.

His eyes softened. "Forced you?"

I looked away. "Just forget it, alright?  I don't want you mixed up in all this, Jack. I really don't."

He let go of my arms, before shifting back on his feet. I twisted the damp cloth in my hands before leaving him to set up, while I finished cleaning. He stayed quiet, even as his friends slowly joined him in setting up. I tried my best to stay out of the way, as they set up shots to film once the actors got here.

It was interesting to see Jack in this way. Suddenly, he wasn't Mr. Dreamboat shooting me coy smiles. He was a film director, barking orders to his friends to set up lights right, the black felt to cover the windows, and just about everything else. Instead of watching him from the sidelines like I was doing for most of the last hour, I finally pulled myself into the backstage area.

The room to the right was littered with tables and mirrors, with big bulbous lights lining each. Perfumes, makeups, hair tools and everything imaginable covered all the tables, each with a chair to match.

Next to it, was a door that led to a hallway to the other side of the stage, just behind the thick red cloth behind the band's setup. The other side was mostly costumes, racks on wheels that had dresses, suits, and just about any outfit needed. Some themed, some just colorful and sparkly to catch the eye of the audience. Paper dividers gave the cast of singers and dancers little rooms to change in privacy.

I started straightening some of the racks and fixing the dividers where there were gaps big enough for a eye. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hello? Mr Ficz'bach, no? Zee director wants you." I turned to see a petite woman, with ringlets in her hair, staring at me in innocence. I gave a sharp nod, as she let go a smile.

"Lead the way, Doll." I spoke, relaxing a bit as she scampered out to the stage.

I followed, fixing my collar as I looked down to Jack, and his friends. One, the one who first asked if they can use my club, spoke.

"Ah, see, perfect height. Movie worthy face, right Jones? Jack?"

The one, who was probably Jones, nodded, only to leave Jack with a verbal reply.

He was focusing on the camera, fitting on a lense that seemed to be giving him trouble. With a quick glance up to me, he replied. "Definitely," He mumbled, not needing to look up to me in the frst place to give his reply. A lump started to ball up in my throat.

"Movie worthy?" I questioned, crossing my arms.

Jones just nodded, ignoring how Jack was acting. "The guy, our lead actor next to Miss Beaumont, flaked. We thought to ask you if you'd like to replace him."

I blinked. "Listen fellas, I'm no actor-"

"You'd really help us out," The other man stopped me. "We only have a handful of days to film, we can't wait and find another actor, You're a perfect fit, Fischbach."

My eyes met Jack's, who finally had looked up to me, judging my reply. I bit my lip lightly.

Fine, for those dreamboat eyes.

"Well if you need me, I'm here."  I replied, looking over the the French woman scuttling beside me. I had already overheard the basis of the plot, we were the romance.

Not that she wasn't pretty, she was. Not my type though, not by a long shot.

I looked back to Jack, only to see that he looked away, now wiping down the fancy looking camera. I was doing it for him. He needed an actor, and here I am, taking up space.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long has it been since my last chapter? Jeez, I'm so sorry. Writers block still had its grip on me, the holidays hit, and I'm finally out of that spiral of celebration. I know where the next chapter is going, so it should be out soon. I'm writing it now! Also, sorry for making Jon out to be such a villain. I know he would never act like this in real life. || I do hope you like! Don't be afraid to bug me to update, it'll honestly help. ||

Oh, the pain.

The pain of remembering lines and listening for cues to move or smile or whatever the hell the three of them had in store for me. We got some larger scenes down, mostly gravitation towards long discussions between me and Frenchie. She told me her name, but I wasn't willing to try pronouncing it. She babbled to me between takes about her film career in France, and how this movie was her break in America. I barely listened, as I scanned the script for the millionth time to memorize my next few lines.

And oh, how Jack saw me struggle. Stumbling on my words, my constant questioning on where I was supposed to be and go and do, had him softly snickering behind the camera. At least it was putting him in a better mood. He was usually the one giving orders, to everyone. Now, that included me.

"Alright, how about we try scene 46? Let you two get to know eachother better." Suggested the other, currently nameless man that hovered near Jack. I flipped the script over, finding the page where the scene was. 

I paled.

"Ooh! Zee first kiss! Finally, zee romance kicks in!" Frenchie giggled beside me, looking over my shoulder. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up and saw Jack looking at me almost worried, before looking back to the camera to adjust the angle.

“Alright, places. Mark, here--” Jones motioned to the dining level, for me to stand as if I was going to walk up to Frenchie. “--And Mrs Beaumont, there.”

I started to read over my lines again. Easy, just a few lines and then.. the kiss. No big deal. I looked up to Jack, again avoiding me by fixing the shot. I guess I understood why, no one wants to see their-- whatever we were -- kiss another person.

“Ready?” I pulled my eyes from Jack and gave a nod, handing my script off so I didn't keep it in my hands like I had before. Frenchie was leaning seductively at the bar, staring at me like meat. That was acting, right?

“Set, action.” With a click from the tile board, I met eyes with her, and started my lines.

“You’re quite the singer,” I commented, as I walked up the few short steps. Kissing her suddenly seemed a lot more torturous than it really would be. “A fella wonders what else a woman like you can do with her lips.”

And like that, I swooped in for the kiss. It felt.. wrong. Like it wasn’t something I should be doing. I could feel her lipstick rub off to my lips, I could feel her petite body press against mine. I didn't like it. The only thing keeping me from pulling away immediately, or even making a face, was the repeating thought.  _ Just pretend it's Jack. Just pretend it's Jack. Just pretend it's Jack. _

“And.. Cut.” I pulled away, attempting to look like I didn’t want to. I watched as her eyes fluttered open. “Perfect, you two.” It was Jack stopping the scene, with a monotone voice telling me he didn't like it just like me. Or, at least I hoped.

The last hour before the club officially opened for the night was dedicated to clean up. The two friends were happy that I agreed to take the lead role. Being happy that I took it was a feat in itself, it showed how much of an actor I can be, fake smiles and all. Jack seemed distant, more distant then after our talk this morning. 

I helped Jack by lifting the heavy camera and placing it in the box it had. I kept my eyes on him as I did it though. “You okay?” I asked quietly, standing again. He met eyes with me.

“Why do you ask?” He replied, pulling the tripod together, before leaning it on the bar. Setting his hands on the bar, I pressed my knuckles into his wrist. My fingers, unraveling, caressed his hand.

“You know why.” I replied, my voice lowering. I watched his eyes dart behind me, where his two friends were preoccupied with the black felt blocking out the windows.

He had hesitated, but pulled his hand away regardless. He opened his mouth to speak, when the door opened. I turned to see Jafari walk in.

I cleared my throat. “We’re closed,” I said stiffly, watching him smirk.

“I’ll only be a moment, sir,” He ground back, his tone forcing my words back down my throat. He walked past everyone and into my storage room. I gulped them down and darted around Jack.

“Hey,” He stopped me, grabbing my arm. He was giving me a ‘what the hell’ look.  _ Stay _ , I mouthed, before pulling away to follow Jafari into the storage room. He moved one of the shelves that was on wheels over, revealing a not-so-secret door. He unlocked it with a key, and spied me through the supplies. 

“Following me, Fischbach?” He asked, going on his way down the [staircase](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjt-aYQO5zA).

“You can’t just waltz into the club like that, I thought you had a back way in--” I followed, spying a dozen girls helping each other with clasps and makeup. When they saw Jafari, the jumped to stand in a line. They looked terrified. 

“Have you all thought about my threat this morning?” The girls quivered, a few directing their attention to me as I made it to the bottom of the stairs. “Anyone ready to fess up?”

The girls were quiet. Jafari walked the line, studying each face. He stopped in front of one, someone a recognized for the other night, peeking out to see the club. “You. You look guilty.”

“I don’t know who took your guns,” She replied quietly. I watched Jafari sneer at her. He lifted his cane, and I darted forward, knowing his tactics all too well.

“No? Then maybe this’ll loosen your lips, sugar--” I grabbed the cane just before he hit her, giving him a look of disgust.

“I thought even scum like you knew not to hit a woman.” I said angrily, hearing the girls behind me scuttle back and out of the way.

“Your negligence is gonna kill you, Fischbach. If I don't beat it out of you first. Boys!” From behind him, what sounded like a crate being dropped sounded through the storage area. I watched as two strong looking  men came around the corner, eyeing me sourly. Meanwhile, Jafari pulled his cane from my hand. With a gesture towards me, the men stepped forward and went to grab me. Adrenaline ran up my spine, I shot forward first and landed a hard punch into one's cheek. He faltered only barely, grunting before grabbing my arm. the other took my arm and used it as leverage to shove me into the cement wall behind me. my head slammed into the wall, making pain reverberate through my skull. I closed my eyes in pain, only to open them to see Jafari look to the cowering girls.

“Take this as your warning. If one of you doesn't fess up, You’ll be next.” he pointed with the cane to the woman he was going to hit. Turning to me, he rose the cane and landed a rough blow to my side, making me curl up on it, though his goons kept me upright. As the second blow landed, I let out a yelp of pain, sending my head spiralling. Four more, and he stepped away. I barely hear the command he gave his goons before I started feeling fists land their mark. One focused on my face, when the other continued the abuse on my stomach. My head was going fuzzy with the pain, I could barely keep my eyes open as I slumped against the wall. As the darkness around my vision swooped in, I watched as Jafari took my chin in his hand like before. I saw his lips move, but heard nothing, just as my vision faded to black.


	7. Chapter 6

I leaned on the wall beside the storage door for longer than I liked. I told Jones and Anthony I needed to talk to Mark about a few things, leaving me by myself as I waited for Mark. A somewhat familiar face opened the door a little after they left, someone with fuzzy hair that shot me, the only one in the club, a friendly smile. He was the singer, or one of them. I watched as he set up the stage and darted behind the scenes.

After that, I watched the bartender come in, following a trickle of customers. By the time I heard noise come from the storage room, the curly haired singer started his first song of the night. 

Out emerged the man from before, the mafia guy that Mark followed. 

“Hey, where’s the owner?” I said, my hand snapping out to tap his arm. I tried taking out as much worry as I could from my voice. He gave me a glowering look. 

“Why?” He asked, like he was already riled up. As he turned to me more,  I noticed the blood that was on his hand.

“I.. I gotta discuss payments for using his club.”

I watched him grin lightly. “You might not be using the club anymore, film boy.” With that, he walked off.

As he disappeared, I darted into the small room, looking for him. the room looked untouched, other than a shelving unit was moved, showing a dark door hidden in the wall. I carefully opened it, only to be welcomed by a line of girls. The walked passed me, giving me lustful looks that just felt faked. After they passed, I finally saw him.

Bloody. Beaten. From how he was slumped, unconscious too.

I took two steps at a time as I came down, meeting him as another girl, a soft-eyed auburn-haired woman came up to him too. In her hand, was a damp cloth, what looked like a wet shirt. She met my eyes and frowned.

“He’ll be okay.. I hope.” She mumbled, before kneeling down at one of his sides to clean the blood from his face. I came closer and squatted down, ignoring the fact that she was there. My eyes softened, seeing him so beaten. Before I realized it, my hand found itself wrapped around his.

“Check his ribs?” She spoke again, looking to me. I nodded, before pulling his shirt from his pants to lift the fabric. Other than being blotchy and red at his sides, he looked okay. I set my fingertips at his ribs, and felt for any breaks. He either didn't have any, or I couldn't tell.

“He took a beating for me, for the rest of the girls. I just hope he didn't get any serious damage from that..” She spoke softly, lifting the other side so she can too check. “One over here..” She looked up to me. I shrugged a little, motioning for her to check.

“I can't tell,” I spoke just as softly, looking back to Mark's bloody face. His nose was crooked, his lip was broken open. What if there was something I could do to keep him from getting hurt?

“Two on that side. I think he’s mostly going to bruise..”

“Jesus, Mark,” I mumbled, before grabbing the cloth she had. I started dabbing at his upper lip as his nose bled.

“Is there somewhere we can take him? Does he live close?” She asked, before laying his shirt back down.

‘He lives just upstairs,” I replied.

“Then help me pick him up,” She said, standing. I gave her a look before taking Mark’s arm gingerly, like I would just hurt him further, and lifted him onto my shoulder. 

“I’m.. I’m Holly, by the way.” She introduced, before letting me lead us upstairs.

“Jack,” I managed, as I carried Mark up the stairs, imagining the second that was coming after we stepped into the storage room.

“How long?” She asked then, as we made it to the familiar room where Mark led me upstairs. As if following the ghostly path he took me, I led her up the stairs on the far side of the wall. 

“Excuse me?” I replied, glancing over my free shoulder as she followed closely.

“You and him. I see the way you look at him, something must be going on.”

I went red, looking forward again as we came to his door. She squeezed an arm past us and opened it for me. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don't worry, Jack. I’ve seen crazier things. I can barely bat an eye at a relationship.. relationship like this.”

As she spoke, I made a beeline for the couch. laying him down, I watched her go past us to the small kitchen connected to the sitting room. I heard her open drawers and cabinets, probably searching for a first aid box. 

Meanwhile I decided to unbutton his shirt and pull it off of him. She came back to me with it, before kneeling at the coffee table. She pulled a wide bandage from the case and hand me lift him.

“So you’re.. you’re not disgusted by..” I asked shyly as I did so. she had sat up, before she started wrapping the bandage around his chest in a compression wrap.

“For what he did for me, he could be doing worse and not have me disgusted by it. Even so, I don't think I would. I don't have to watch you bump uglies, do I? Why be bothered by it?” She explained, hooking the bandage tightly over his chest. Once secured, I laid him back down. 

“Huh.” I said, going red again at her words. Mark’s nose seemed to stop bleeding, thankfully. 

“Do you know how to set a nose?”

“I-what?”

“Set his nose. I never had to, the girls stay away from the face when they fight.”

“You mean those call-girls?” She nodded. 

“Most fellas don’t care for a few bruises. As long as they keep their faces pretty we bring in money for  Mr. Jafari.” She motioned to Mark, and I stood to lean over him.

“He did this to him?” I made a face, as I moved my fingers down the bridge of Marks nose, trying to straighten it. Under my fingers, the bone crackled against itself creepily. 

She nodded. “He’s the owner, right?”

I nodded back. “I think he and the Jafari guy had an agreement of some sort.”

“Mr. Jafari gets under people's skins. Finds their weaknesses and uses them. If he can’t do that, blunt force always works for him.” She looked down to the carpet and made a face of disgust. “It surprised me he was going to.. to hit me like that, like he did him. Though at the same time, I feel like I should have known.”

“Don’t worry about it. Even in the short while I’ve known Mark, he’ll put himself in front of anyone.”

“Jack, Mr. Jafari told him before he passed out, that he was just that close from removing him from the situation entirely. I don't want the next time he puts others before himself, it’ll be his last.”

I paled. “He.. wouldn’t, would he? He needs Mark to run the club. “

“Mark wouldn't be the first person the girls and I have seen ‘disappear’. Mr. Jafari is.. he’s dangerous.”

As she spoke, Mark groaned in front of us, his eyes still closed as his head moved slightly.

“Shoot, I need to be downstairs. You got him?” She asked, standing.

“Of course.” With that, she gave me a gentle smile before leaving the flat. As she left, I reached out for Mark's hand, feeling him twitch in response.

His eyes blinked open. “Wha.. what the hell..” 

“Mark?” I gripped his hand as he realized I was there with him.

“Jack-- oh shit, I can’t--” I set a hand on his chest, keeping him from sitting up.”--breathe.”

“Whoa there, cowboy. With the number of ribs you have broken, you’re not moving for a while.”

“Ribs.. broken? Shit, Jafari, those girls..”

“Calm down. The girls are okay. The one you saved, Holly, helped me patch you up.” He succumbed enough to lean his head back on the cushion. “You, not so much. Three broken ribs, Mark. A broken nose. Your sides, their bruising pretty badly as we speak.”  I reached with my free hand and and stroked his cheek. I hated myself for instantly thinking about how he couldn't fill our main character’s our role anymore. The movie was the least of my worries. I focused back on the lines on each side of his nose, that were beginning to bruise as well. Actually, he seemed to be bruising everywhere. His jaw, his right eye, and he still managed to give me a small smile.

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“Mad at you?”

“For.. for being in this mess. Pulling you into it. If you weren’t before, you are now.” 

I sighed softly, leaning my forehead on his shoulder, hoping out of anywhere I wouldn't hurt him further there. “It’s not your fault you're in this mess, and not you’re fault I got swept into it as well. My fault getting close to you. I rather be in the middle of it and keep you from killin’ yourself then be clueless to why every time I see you you get more beaten up.” I looked up to him, finding his half-lidded eyes. “Maybe you should stay outta the fight for a while.”

He blinked his eyes open wider, only to bring a pained look to his face. “Stay out of it? He’s gonna hurt those girls, Jack. I saw how frightened they were of him. Just imagine if I wasn’t there to stop him-”

“Yeh and you were, and Holly owes you a lot, but you got yourself beaten bloody. She, now us both, we’re afraid the next time that lunatic comes swinging he won't stop till you're dead. Holly said he told you that, don't you remember?”

Mark’s adam's apple bobbed as he shook his head gently. He rested his head in my palm more so than he already was. His eyes closed, as he replied.

“I don't. But now I feel like those girls are my responsibility. Making them work as prostitutes are one thing, but beating them, laying a hand on a woman, I can't let that go unnoticed.”

“And you didn't,” I reassured softly, biting my lip. “You didn’t. Now please,  _ for me _ , Mark, stay out of it. I-I can’t stand seeing you beaten like this.”

He opened his eyes, finding mine again. I pleaded with them I watched his soften as he looked through me. “Jack..” His voice was soft, like he was pleading back. “Alright. I’ll at least stay out of it till I heal up. Deal?”

I sat up, leaving a gently peck at his forehead. “It's a start.”


	8. Chapter 7

Jack stayed with me that night. There was a toughness in my chest at his words, that he couldn't stand seeing me so beaten. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and promise that I'd keep my nose clean.

 

But I couldn't quite do that. Between the broken ribs and the women in danger downstairs, I couldn't. I wish I could. For the pain in his eyes he deserves never to see me like this again.

 

I sent him off to put an eye out on the club, to make sure Jafari’s men weren't taking over in my absence. I hated not being down in the club but I didn't need Dan on stage or Barry behind the bar to worry.

 

I wiped my eyes after Jack left. Between him and the girls I felt torn up. Jafari had gone too far, and maybe he always had, but I was just now seeing it and I couldn't-- my conscience couldn’t take it --just let him do this anymore. This might have been a death wish, but I was going to take down Jafari. It was the only way to keep the club in tact and protect those girls. Then, there was Jack.

 

Jafari was suspicious that Mark was seeing somebody, it seemed. Being queer, he didn't think Jafari would take very kindly to Jack and I. Another one, the most important one on my list to protect.

 

He wasn't going to be happy with my decision.

 

Carefully, I sat up and took a deep breath. The broken ribs were pressing against my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. I still stood, slowly and shaky like my legs were weak. I took a moment to steady myself before taking the handful of steps to my tiny kitchen.

 

For now though, I just need to heal up, at least enough to face Jafari again.

* * *

 

 

“I don't know how you do it, Mark,” Suzy chastised, packing a thick powder on the pad before going at Mark’s face with it. Clad in a corset and feathers, Suzy had introduced herself to Jack as the lead burlesque dancer on Fridays.

 

“Just keeping assholes out of the club, Sweetheart.” Mark replied, pulling a face as Suzy put the powder away. The bruises under his eyes were gone, like they never were there. His nose still had a kink in it, a small one, but looked fine. His lip was a lost cause, but Anthony had improvised a fight scene to give us some leeway.

 

I can't believe we were still making Mark do the movie. I can't believe he agreed to continue.

 

“Be more careful, you. Or I’ll have to smother you with more cover-up.”

 

“Please don't,” He replied, making Suzy smile lightly.

 

It had been two days, mostly of me continuously keeping Mark in bed, when he constantly wanted to get out and do something, anything. I had half a mind to think he was doing it on purpose. There was some perks of being Marks ‘nurse’ for a few short days, like seeing him all day. And not just seeing him, interacting with him. Making him smile, being able to lay in bed with him when he rests, stealing kisses throughout the day. It was more lovely than I had thought, I would think the fact that Mark was badly hurt would get in the way of my overactive heart.

 

It _had_ been overactive in the last few days.

 

Thinking back it might have started when Mark had pulled me in his lap, and just wanted to hold me there, admire my flaws, enjoy my company. I had never had that before. Something that was more the just a quick fling, it was unheard of in the queer community. And I had just gotten used to the thought.. and Mark came around. With devious grins, handsome honey brown eyes, and a tender touch that was out of this world. Mark was out of this world. A distant star that was too much out of my little orbit. And somehow Mark had chosen me, maybe just for that night, and now things had been blown out of proportion; where they were too far down the rabbit hole and now we saw things were different, and to me, these different things were.. Nice. There I was, wondering why my cheeks hurt so much and finding out that it was because I hadn’t smiled this much in years. I had began to crave the domestic side of a relationship, the early morning coffee, late night kisses, waking up to watch the sun rays shine across the others skin like organic facets, his warm breath on my neck as we slept-- the list could go on.

 

A frown passed my lips. I had two more days till I was on a one way plane to California. I’d be leaving Mark in my dust and..

 

Suddenly I had very different feelings on what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

 

“Jack?” Mark’s voice cut into the void of thoughts that were on their way into a spiral of sadness. “You okay?”

 

Clearing my throat, I nodded. “M’fine, fine. Jus’ thinking about the film.”

 

Glancing at Suzy, a knowing grin slipped onto her lips. Well boys, I’ll be backstage if you need me.” We both gave a nod as she packed up fully and moved herself off the presumable screen to backstage.

 

Once out of earshot though, Mark leaned closer to me to whisper. “You don't look fine, I can see the sadness in those dreamboat eyes of yours.”

 

I pinkened considerably, with who could overhear his complement. “Just.. I’m supposed to leave in tomorrow evenin’, and it jus’ hit me.” I confessed.

 

His eyes went wide and he took my arm, pulling us both from the barstools to the storage room, away from the three fawning over my camera. Once the thick door was closed, he turned to me.

 

“You’re leaving so soon?” He asked, a certain panic in his voice. It came as a surprise to me how much the idea effected him. But then again..

 

“Oh, Mark..” I said softly, reaching forward to touch his face. “I-I.. I have to, you know?  I gotta promising career there in Hollywood, a gig already set up after this one here, an’..”

 

“And what, you were going to just leave me hanging here? _Led on_?”

 

I cringed like he was hitting me. Might as well, that hurt. I didn’t want to leave him here, but that was the smart choice, right? What was here for me, just Mark?

Realization hit his face as I pulled my hands away and stepped back. “Well, if you feel that way ‘bout it..”

 

“Jack, I’m sorry..” He spoke, softly. “I didn't mean it that way, just..”

 

“Jus’ what? You thought I was gunna stay here and do what, fookin’ cheezy romances for the rest of my life--”

 

“Mark? Jack?” I stepped away, as Mark moved out of the way to let the door open.

 

Faking business, Anthony, who opened the door, let it slide. Beaumont was all dolled up, ready for her performance. Today, was action day. Lots of singing and dancing and well, club things. We could film most of the scenes without a full club, but tonight Mark had let us film during hours with the room’s consent.

 

And boy, did the day drag on.

 

It was a little sickening to watch Mrs Beaumont fawn and flirt with Mark all day. It was also sickening to know Mark and I left that conversation.. Unresolved. If it could be resolved, that is. What was I supposed to do? The three men I had grew a partnership with were paying my way for having me stop to help them. From what I hear, the ticket was already bought and there was no out in this.

 

But I could tell Mark was torn up about this. It showed in his acting, although he was a better actor than I thought. I didn’t know how felt so.. Strongly about me.. us. It had only been a handful of days, what could develop in such short time? Damnit, this was supposed to be a one night thing, and here we are in a mess of tangled feelings.

 

 _Tangled_ . Part of me wanted to stay, part of me knew I should go before this gets worse, and I know it will. Sooner or later one of us will fall in love and then where would we be? I couldn't be the one. I’m the one with the big decision, I can't have it muddled with.. _That_.

 

Love..

 

A song drifted in my mind, a memory from last night. _Why are you so far away, he said,_

_Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you, that I'm in love with you.._

 

It was only last night, the memory vivid and heart-pounding. Mark was supposed to be resting, of course, but I was out of the room packing up where I was supposed to sleep, the blanket on the couch. Easy to say, The couch never got a chance. I had been thinking fondly of not spending those few nights on the couch when from down the hall, I heard the scratch of a record player turning on. Cursing under my breath, I had set the blanket down and walked over, looking into the doorway to see Mark out of bed, finding the right place in the record he had placed.

 

 _“Show me how you do that trick, the one makes me scream he said, the one that makes me laugh he said, and threw his arms around my neck_ ,”

 

“Want to dance, Jack?” My eyes looked up to Mark’s face, as he held out a hand. He was shirtless still, sides bruising darkly.

 

“You should be in bed,” I had chastised, giving him a little smile. “Plus, I only know how to lead, and I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

 

He chuckled, smiling. “I’m okay. I could teach you, you know. “ He stepped over and took my hand, gently pulling me into his room.

 

“You still should be in bed.” I replied, though I didn’t stop him from setting a hand on my waist, the other weaved into my hand.

 

“ _Show me how you do it, and I’ll promise that, I promise that I’ll run away with you, I’ll run away with you,”_

 

We swayed to the beat, taking slow steps that led us in circles. Tight ones, for how small mark’s bedroom was. I had set my free hand on his shoulder, giving into him. He did seem fine, he wasn't stepping in circles sourly, like his sides bothered him like it had yesterday. Now that his ribs had time to mend enough to walk, he was up and going. Most likely the reason he agreed to continue the movie, to prove he was okay.

 

“Your leading,” He had said, smiling at me. “Here, put your feet on mine.”

 

Being oddly at home in Mark’s apartment, I had my shoes off, making it impossible to use crushing his feet with my loafers as an excuse not to. But with being just in socks, I had carefully perched myself on his feet. Only being an inch or two shorter then him, we were now at equal heights. He led, moving both our feet in a steady circle. My balance hadn’t been that good, I was clinging to his wide shoulder blades, which he didn’t mind one bit. He set his forehead against mine, and somehow in the gentle action, it had relaxed me enough to release the tension in my shoulders from being on his toes.

 

It started with a hum, something I most likely I wouldn't hear if I wasn't this close to him. Then, as the chorus round about again, I felt his warm breath on my cheek, his husky voice coming out dulcet and gentle as his touch.

 

“ _You, soft and only, you, lost and lonely, you, just like Heaven..”_

 

The song consisted of a few more notes before there was a break to the next song on the record. The airy female singer who sang the song was nothing compared to Mark. Soft, gentle, full of emotion. I briefly wondered how he did it, before he continued.

 

“You know, it's true.” The next song started, something much more upbeat, but we had stayed at the same beat. “You are just like Heaven.”

 

I had gotten used to his sweet words the longer  I was around him, it was hard to avoid. He had nicknamed me ‘his dreamboat eyes’ which was the one thing that made be pinken the most. Though now, all I could do was shake my head lightly.

 

This time, I didn’t. Shaking my head would break contact with his forehead, and why would I want to do that?

 

“Oh am I?” I asked gruffly instead, feeling much more rough-around-the-edges around the real angel, who was still spinning us around in steady circles. I didn’t feel like much, let alone heaven itself. Mark was the real angel, even though some of those smirks of his are positively devilish. Some of those things he could do with those lips were just the same, devilish.

 

“Definitely. You’re a gift from above, Jack.” He returned, a cheeky smile playing at his lips. If I was a gift from above, he was sent from hell to turn me to sin. “And I cherish being able to hold you in my arms.”

 

To demonstrate, his hand at my waist held me close, closer than I was. Chests together, I could feel his heartbeat through my thin button up. It was the only thing separating our flesh, and I didn't want it off more than I did then, just to be closer to his heartbeat.

 

“Jack?” A voice fluttered through the memory, one that definitely didn't belong there. Anthony. “Hey, we gotta clean up before the evening bustle.”

 

I probably turned eight shades of pink before I was able to answer, the night that followed Mark and I’s dance last night still in my mind. Anthony didn't notice though, he had turned to start moving the camera to the side. Mark was nowhere to be seen, Suzy was peeking from behind stage, a number of other girls moving behind her, getting themselves ready for the burlesque night. Tonight would be busy, which suited us just fine. The movie would end with a bang, The couple would argue backstage and while she sang her angst about it out, he would realize his mistake and give her a big hollywood kiss in front of the whole club.

 

The thought made my stomach turn. Today should be the last day of filming, tomorrow would be going through the footage and making sure all the scenes were useable. While the three did that, I would be packing and leaving to hollywood by noon.

 

That was making my stomach twist and turn uncomfortably.

 

I pushed it from my mind and helped pick up the loose script pages that littered the tables that were out of shot, Took the dark cases that held the cameras and temporarily hid them in the storage room, out of the way with the tripod and camera. Still, no sign of Mark.

 

While we waited, the bartender and a few familiar faces filtered in, Danny and a few other singers, giving us an okay to be in camera when Anthony asked, if only we’d get his “good side”. The man behind him, who was itching to slip backstage, mentioned how he doesn’t have a bad side.

 

“Here, we need to take a moment to celebrate.” Anthony announcement, turning to the bar.

 

Ordering a round of scotch, We toasted to a award winning short film, a flawless night, and a safe flight to hollywood, for me. We clanked our drinks together and all took a long sip.

 

We continued chatting as the place filled to capacity, singers already starting the first songs of the night. It wasn’t long till Mark emerged from backstage and took the microphone after an upbeat performance from Danny.

 

“Good evening everyone, I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves. I wanted to make an important announcement; the club is being used as a set to a short film, boys?” He gestured to us at the bar, and we rose our drinks in reply. “Now they need your help, the last big scene needs a full crowd, and I wanted to get the consent of the room to be used in the film.”

  
The crowd cheered lightly, raising their drinks too in agreement. The boys around me clanked drinks again, happy the film can continue. My line of sight of Mark was interrupted, and by the time I could see the stage, he was gone. Disappeared backstage again, ready to get this movie over will, I could only guess. The quicker he can get me out of his sight.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! To tell it to you straight, I haven't been on, that I have lost inspiration completely for everything I was writing. But, I've recently kicked it in the butt, and I should be permanently back. In this, I wrote the last stretch of this, and I can't wait to share it with you.

The band started on a dark tempo, the bass deep thumps leading the rest. Piano entered into the scene, matching the dark feel of the music. Danny’s voice broke from in front of me, from behind a thick gray curtain. I was backstage, hiding, really. The less Jack sees me, the better. If he really felt like he had to go to Hollywood, I didn't want to stop him. Of course, I felt for him-- unlike any queer that passed by my doors. He was special, he was the one, the spectrum of stars casting a soft, happy light on my simple, boring life. I wanted to soak in his starlight as long as I could, but still, I was hiding.

At least, soon, I could push him and the guilt he brought me behind me and go after Jafari. Save those girls, do what I can to restore my club back to what it was years ago.

I let my head fall to my hands before roughly dragging them across my face. My nose screamed in retaliation, but I pitched my eyes closed and ignored it.

“Monsieur.”

“I snapped down to the petite woman beside me, Beaumont. “‘Ere filming now, my love.” She led me, forcefully, by my hand. She led me out from behind the stage, to a side section between the stage entrance and the singer dressing area. Jack was there, fiddling with the camera, trying to set the tripod at the correct height. Anthony and the other, started directing us in the right places. Beaumont, against the wall between us and the club watching Danny. I set a hand on the wall, trapping her, and prepared for the argument scene. We would argue, She would slap me, and slip off to sing. The day before Jafari’s confrontation, we had practiced the fake slap. Getting the slap motion and head snap at the same time, so her hand would pass my cheek, but not hit it, leaving it to only look as if she slapped me. The noise, as reassured that it could be added later. I had plenty time in between to practice my lines, as the last bit, I had it memorized. Now, it felt almost ironic.

“Three, two, one, action.” With Anthony’s cue and snap of the title board, the cameras were on us, and rolling.

“What if I want to go to Hollywood, huh? Are you gunna keep me captive here?”

“No, dollface. I don't believe you'll have the guts to go all the way out to the big lights. You won't be leaving my club.”

“And If I do? What If I walked out right now?”

Danny, as his song ended, as cued to step off stage to tell Beaumont that it was her song next. As he stepped around us, around the camera too, We all turned back to Beaumont. 

“You wouldn't dare.” As her hand swiped at my face, I snapped my head towards the camera, feeling her dodge under my arm. 

“Cut,” Came Jack as he maneuvered the camera. “Last scene, final kiss.”

Jack was the one to prompt the audience on what the scene was, and how they were going to have a special performance by my co-lead. I stayed behind the stage, Jack’s camera dauntingly still staring at me. We would catch the scene in two angles, one of me, bowing my head in thought as she sang, and the main camera on her as she preformed. The camera was stationary, catching me, a side view of the stage, and miss Beaumont as she began. Something upbeat, strong willed. I didn't know the song but Bowed my head still. The quicker I could get the scene over with, the better.

I played with a few looks, giving them plenty to choose from in my boredom, I really didn't care for Beaumont’s song. Her voice, although gentle and beautiful, held nothing in my heart. She was just another singer. 

She stopped, letting the band interlude for a moment while she danced around, shooting side stage steely glances. I ignored her. Shutting my eyes, letting the big band trumpets and sax overtake my senses. I suddenly didn't want to have anything to do with this film. Jack, dare I say it, hates me. I had said just as I told Beaumont, I didn't believe he could go to Hollywood. Not that it was my exact words, but I could see it in his eyes, the hurt, the pain that laid behind his blue, now a stormy gray, eyes. My dreamboat had hit rough waters, and I was the one who shook the ocean.

 

“Drop a heart, break a name, We’re always sleepin’ in and sleepin’, for the wrong team..”

 

The band silenced for him, the irish accent breaking through the void of sound. I snapped up, and saw across from me, Jack. Mouth barely touching the mic, the suit he was wearing much different from the casually clad one he wore moments ago. His eyes were closed, his hands raised ever so slightly in emotion, raw emotion as he sang. 

 

“We’re goin’ down down, in an earlier round, and sugar we’re goin’ down, swingin’, I'll be your number one with a bullet, A loaded God complex let's cock it an’ pull it.”

 

As the band broke into song again, I was perplexed. Beaumont was replaced, replaced with the only one to truly tug at my heartstrings. I didn't need a script, as the song ended. The band kept though, creating a climactic rush of beats as I stopped onstage, whisked Jack closer to me, and with a hand behind his head, kissed him with all I had. Every inch of regret for my words, the regret for the pain I caused him, the fact that I’d want him to go live his dreams if that is what would make him happy.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short! Next chapter will be much longer!

I stood, a crick in my neck from leaning down, watching the camera to make sure we were continuously getting a good picture. The song, one that Anthony had picked off a jukebox, seemed to fit fine for the quarrel they had backstage. I imagined to see Mark give the same resentment in the moments before giving Beaumont the first kiss. Instead, as her voice faded from the mic, he stepped proudly into picture and twisted her to the side, hand on her head and the other at her waist, before kissing her deeply. In her shock, she groped his arm, as the other found his head.

Meanwhile, my heart dropped to my guts. That kiss, that kind of kiss was not a fake, movie-kiss. That was real. Something that I felt when he kissed me. From across the room I felt it, the wave of apology that seemingly hit everyone. As they parted, the audience erupted in applause, the band finally then ending the song. When Mark's eyes opened, he seemed to take a moment to register who was in his arms. I barely gave it a thought, as Anthony called cut and joined in the applause. Beaumont blushed, giggled into the mic and gave a celebratory woo into it.

Mark was gone before the band could start up again. One of the guys was in my line of sight before I could look away from his perplexed expression.

What I recognized as some of the dancers from earlier erupted from the bar behind us, carrying large platters of drinks to the roaring crowd. Suddenly, it was all too loud. I took a step back, shooting a reassuring and congratulatory smile to Anthony as he looked back to me. My back hit the bar, luckily between two hard, metal barstools. No Mark. Beaumont, seemed to disappear into the crowd too. I scanned the room, seeing only the blur of celebrating faces. I was only pulled from it when the barkeep, the man Mark mentioned was named Barry, tapped my shoulder. As I turned, he gestured to the side stairwell to the backstage area. 

“Hey, the boss is waving you over.” He spoke, as I glanced towards where he gestured. There, I spotted Mark, and what looked like a bloodied rag held to his face. His free hand, waved me over, now that I met eyes with him. 

I darted across the room, toward him, weaving down the wide stairs to the second level of seating, and to the mostly hidden steps to the backstage area. Mark eased deeper into the small, darkened hallway before it would break into the brightly lit dress and makeup area to the left. In this little crevice of the club, we had privacy. 

“I’m sorry,” He started off, as he dabbed his nose, looking at the bloodied rag. I could only assume, something between that kiss and getting to me, the deep cut at his nose had opened. Now, his nose was just a smudged red patch on his face. 

“S’fine, I really shouldn't care--”

“No, I’m sorry,” He pushed. “For what I said. For how I came off this morning. I feel like the scum of the earth after saying it. Jack-- go for it. Go to Hollywood, I would love nothing more them to see your name in lights if that's what you want. I want you to be happy okay?”

I was quite for a moment. The kiss, what I actually thought he was apologizing for, swept to the farthest corner of my mind. All I could see was his bright, but apologetic grin that eased on his face, besides the pain he must have been in with his nose pulling open again. His free hand, the one without the blood, reached out for me ever so slightly. I leaned forward, almost fell into him, my feet catching me as I bowed my head into his shoulder. Hands around his neck, I felt his hand hold me at my waist. I suppose, the decision was made for me, If Mark truly wanted me to be happy, and film really did make me happy, I should continue to go to Hollywood. And with his support, it felt like a much more solid option. 

“Thank you, “I mumbled into his neck, squeezing him tighter for a second before moving to let go. As our faces passed, he lad a gentle kiss at my cheek, making me pause. As if on instinct, forgetting that any of his singers or dancers could walk down this way at any moment, I pushed forward again and landed my lips on his. I felt the sticky texture of the blood on his cheek press against my nose, but ignored it as I kissed him; full, passionate, meaningful. One last kiss before I would leave him in my dust.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last stretch! I'm not sure how I actually ended it, like final sentence wise. I'll be definitely returning with an epilogue soon, very soon to really finalize things. Also, I'll be posting just about this entire chapter, but written as a screenplay. Thanks to J.K.Rowlings first screenplay 'Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them', I was inspired to step out of my comfort zone and try screenplay writing. I really liked it!

I slipped a bill into the flight hop’s shirt pocket, as his hands were full of my beefy tripod and camera bags. With a little tip, I was sure to see my things come perfectly safe on the other side of the Americas. 

“Your stay felt too short, Jack.” Anthony said, giving me a clap on my shoulder. I gave him a smile, giving them all a look of consideration. Although the most I had connected with these three was the wrought  discussions between scenes on said scenes, and the drinks we rejoiced in the night before, I still felt the pull of melancholy in my chest. These men were the first I met who shared the same passion, abet overseas. And now, they were generous enough to help me on my way. 

We shared our goodbyes, took a going-away-puff from one of their cigars, and they left me in the terminal. 

Of course, it wasn't the end of the goodbyes.

From across the way, Mark leaned on a tall pillar, letting the unknowing gentleman pass before approaching me. His shirt unbuttoned at the top, the faint stain of red still could be seen from the broken cut at his nose. Now, his nose was fine, healed together again, now it was only a red, ragged line on the side of his nose. Still, he looked positively breathtaking as he usually does.

“Hey,” He said, walking up with his hands in his pockets. “I hope you didn't think I could let you leave without one last goodbye.”

I let out a little chuckle. I would have been surprised seeing im, with how it was almost opening hours for his club when I finally spied him across the room a half hour ago. “No no, I saw you a mile away. You can't get enough of me, eh?” he let out a little laugh back, making a grin squeeze itself pass my lips. 

“Oh, you know it, Dreamboat.” He then looked down to his dark brown loafers, kicking nervously at the short carpet of the terminal before his eyes looked up again. “You'll visit when you can, won't you? Lord knows once you hit it big-- and you will, you’ll have the cash to throw around.”

Jack shook his head a little, more so at how Mark had little clue on how the film business worked. There was definitely more work ill he got anywhere close to that, but he was charmed by his words regardless.

“If you'd want to see me when that happens,” I replied, smiling back at him, the briefcase holding my onboard items dangling from my wrist as I shoved my hands in my own pockets. “I'd be glad to take a trip over.”

He smiled again. “I would love nothing more.”

He stood then, for a short moment, smiling gently at each other. The people passing by unknowing of our conversation and the feelings that lay below it.

“Go far, okay Jackaboy? You got it in you, I know you do. You’ll make some magic there in Hollywood, I can feel it.”

My smile spread. Sometimes, the things he said had a better effect on me any much else, I was sure Anthony or the others had said something similar only minute earlier, but then I had brushed it of.. Now, my cheeks pinked, and I felt like crushing my face into his neck again. So, partially, I did. We hugged, something much more stiff and presented, like two friends saying goodbye. The terminal above us rang, the intercom crunching over the gentle music echoing through the airport. My Terminal just opened.

“Till next time, Dreamboat,” I heard him whisper, in my ear, before pulling away. As if there was something pulling, connected from me to his chest, I felt it almost painful to turn away from him and fade into the bustling bodies leaving to the terminal gates. Maybe I was leaving part of myself back with him, and maybe be day I'll be reunited with hit, and therefore, him.

I followed the way onto the walkway, to the tarmac, to the stairway to the plane. The part I left behind, the tangents of it still pulling at my chest, I paused in my step on a few feet from the stewardess welcoming everyone onboard. People passed me, when I took a deep breath. That part of me  ached, ached to spend another night with Mark, tangled with him again, just counting his breaths before the soothing blanket of sleep found me. I wanted to share another drink, another kiss, or maybe a handful, to smile and joke and learn his laugh some more. To see his eyes soften as I speak, to see his eyes almost twinkle under the gentle lighting of the club, after hours. Even if-- even if it meant throwing away any chances I had in Hollywood, I would like a much more happy life.

“Sir?” My eyes found what was in front of me again, now the stewardess who stepped forward from the staircase to me. “Are you alright?”

What was only a second felt like years as I finally made my decision, my real decision. My lips could keep up with my words. “I need to go back. I-I-”

“Go back? Sir, did you leave something behind?”

“The person I love,” I spoke, that ache blooming to a beating, throbbing pain that made my feet antsy. I needed to go, and I needed to go now.

Her eyes sparkled with my words, charmed with my sudden revelation She smiled, leaving me away from the shuffling group of the stragglers climbing the stairway up to the plane. I followed, with half a mind to drop the briefcase, leave my camera and equipment to worry for another day, and sprint down the way I came and back to where Mark must still be.

Instead, with a mention that there would be little hope for getting my things if I didn't hurry, I forced myself to wait and get what I could. I never thought I would be so nervous about being late to the rest of my life.  I followed the stewardess getting past many sections of people before finding the cart full of bags. It took some shifting, but I found my two bags, the camera nowhere to be seen, but I had no care for it now. With a point in the right direction, I ran my way up to the airport, through the terminal gates, and through the large and weaving airport. I had found the entrance, and there was no sign of Mark. Instead, I hailed a cab and went on my way. What felt like a millennia later, we stopped in front of the club. With a little help, I heaved the few cases I had and, with reassurance from Barry, I confidently left my things within his sight. I then darted up the stairs to Mark's living space. I hadn't seen him downstairs, not to mention that he hasn’t been around since hours started. I walked into the familiar space, the living room as untouched as I remembered it. The kitchen looked just as untouched, too, which led me down the short hall to the bedroom and bathroom. He was nowhere to be found. 

_ “I’m criticized, but all your bullets ricochet, you shoot me down, but  I get up.” _

I glanced over to Danny, singing, as I made it back to the club. Not at all discouraged, I slipped downstairs, and while the workers were preoccupied with the busy night, I stepped into the storage room. By the process of elimination, he had to be inside.

“Mark, I decided to..” I trailed off, spotting Mark but also, the hands holding him and the sickening familiar face of Jafari. He didn't miss a beat, he motioned for one of the few men in the small room to grab me. I struggled, but my arms quickly were kept in an airtight vice. I spied Mark across the room, nose broken open, bleeding again. Jafari didn't look to swell either, with a trickle of blood down the edge of his lips and one eye starting to puff. Anguish fumed in Mark's eyes, as he kept his eyes on me

“And look, My boy. Your stupidity as gotten that filmboy dead, too. “ With a shove, Mark's eyes left mine and his feet pushed backward, towards the door to the lower storage.

 

* * *

  
  


I would be lying if I said my eyes were wet as jack yanked me into a hug before he had to go. The voice above us seemed like a snake snapping from the grass, shocking us both into realizing that he had to go, we hand to move, we had to leave this as our final goodbye.

“Till next time, Dreamboat,” the words spilled from my lips, as a pain in my chest rose. He moved away, cheeks pinking at my words. Then, with a final smile, he turned and bowed his head into the heavy crowd of passengers.

With a heavy heart, I turned too. Now, I had a mission. I tried, desperately to push jack from my mind as I thought of what I was going to do tonight. Jafari. Killing him. Ending this, all of it. And if I die trying..

Danny and barry have the rights to the club, I wrote that in last night. Then, Ross, a regular, made a comment about Holly, one of Jafari's girls. Of course, he knew very little about her situation, but ached to relieve her from it. With a little conversing, I would know the girls would be taken care of and taken from the situation if I lived or not.

I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger, as I stood in wait for my taxi. It was suicide mission, I knew that. If going into it I was thinking about my death, I knew what would happen. In my condition, with loss of blood, a possible concussion, and minor hallucinations, I was set to fail. I knew, in the little common sense that I had left, that I should wait till I was healed up completely, but the safety of those girls and the sanctity of my club was dwindling down to nothing the longer I waited.

 

I walked into the doors, must have been minutes before even Danny walked in. They would know how to get the place going without me.  Instead, lied in wait for Jafari. It didn't take long for him to strut into the small, darkened room as if he owned it, not seeing me lurk in the darker sides of the cabinets. 

“I’ve had enough,” I said, dark and imposing as I came into view, Jafari, snapped to me, eyes struck with a fire I knew too well.

“Enough, eh? You’re not the only one, Fishbach.”

“You need to leave. Permanently. I;m done being the dirt under your shoes as I keep your whole business afloat.”

“Oh wow, looks like our bar rat forgot who was in control,” He spoke, stepping away from the door and closer to me.” I can only teach a lesson so many times, Fishbach. Sometimes you can't help killing the rat when he sticks his head right into the trap.”

Before he could raise the cane, I shot forward, landing two heavy fists into his cheek and side, making him falter. I stepped back, bouncing on my heels, fists ready to shoot ahead again. He touched his nose, blood dripping from it. A chuckle erupted from his lips.

“You think you can just beat me to next Sunday and I'll crawl away? No, my boy, that's your job. With a purposeful swing at his side, his cane shot forward, and I grabbed it by the studded, jeweled side, ripping it from his grip. I pulled him to the ground and got quite a few punches in before he let out a whistle. Steps clamored up the hidden stairway, and to us.  I was pulled from Jafari, fists falling to open air. Two arms, yanking my arms behind my back with difficulty. Jafari stood, leaving the cane behind. 

Hold him still, boys.” As they tightened their grips on me as I struggled, I felt a new sensation-- his fists on my face. Not only had he never used his fists, but he left the cane as if he didn't care about the jewels glittering on the floor.

_ One, two, three _ ,  I let out a cry in frustration, and pain.  _ Four five _ , he then stopped. “You know what, Fishbach? You've stuck your head much too far into the trap to be able to wiggle free this time. I think you;ve done it, that powerful bar has come down on that weak little neck of yours, bar rat.” Jafari growled, his speech faltering from the blood slowly pooling in his mouth. To show, he spat grossly to the side, right into the wine stain from the beginning of the week.

“Mark! I’ve decided to..” My eyes shot across the room, to the now open storage room to see the last person I expected, Jack. eyes going wide, body frozen from what he had found, I barely registered Jafari’s motion to grab him, too. To kill him, too. My eyes welled, not with tears, but with pain and anger and misery. I had done what I never wanted to do, drag Jack into my problems. And now, there was nowhere to wiggle out of it from. Not for me, Not for him.

I was shoved, knocking my eyes from his as my feet instinctively moved backward, then turned as the two behind me led me towards the open hidden door. I could hear Jack behind me, making my chest ached with pain. 

“Wait-- wait!”

I stumbled to the last few stairs before my voice found me. “Don't touch him, Jafari. Don't you fucking dare. He has nothing to do with me, nothing to do with our beef.”

“Oh, pleading, Fischbach? For this man? You’re joking.”

With a final shove, we made it to the bottom floor his goons led us in a wide arc, making me face Jack again, only feet away. I could see easily the panic in his eyes. He searched mine desperately.

“He’s innocent,” I struggled to keep my voice even, from the pain in my head from the beating and the eruption in my chest at the sight of Jack. “Let him go, Jafari.”

“And why would I care? Why would I let go this man who has obviously seen too much-- seen too much.” His eyes narrowed on me.

“He  _ has  _ seen too much, hasn’t he?”Jafari was in front of me now, blocking my view of Jack.  I could tell in his low stare, he had made the dots to who Jack was to me. “And here I thought you finally picked up some broad, maybe even that bitch of a call-girl you defended. No, no. you have a taste for something much more  _ taboo _ , don't you?”

“More the reason to kill ‘em boss.” Piped up one of the goons, crinkling his nose at us both. I could tell the others agreed, as I heard Jack cry out. As Jafari turned to look, I saw The goon who spoke had reached over and yanked on a fistful of Jack’s hair, forcing his head up.

“Oh how romantic, you can die with each others blood splattered on the other.” Jafari snapped his fingers and walked from the picture. More goons showed, sliding tommy guns from the crates littering the space. To pointed at me, two pointed at Jack.

“No! Jack, I’m sorry..” I retaliated, wiggling against the arms that bound me.

“I’m done with you, boy, fag or not.”

I could see tears well in Jack's eyes. He shut them, forcing them back into his sockets before, eyes now red and bothered, looked back to me. I, on the other hand, spied a figure behind his head.

Holly. She hand a hand on the power control, looking ot me for guidance. I gave a sharp nod and refocused my eyes on jack as he stared wistfully at me. As Jafari gave the order, I mouthed  _ ‘duck’ _ , moments before the lights went out and the room erupted in gunshots.

I ducked, feeling the arms holding me loosen at the shock of the lights going out, before letting go entirely. One of the tommyguns clamored to the ground, beside me. I set one hand directly in front of me, giving myself a placeholder for Jack. Snatching the gun, I pointed it at 3 o'clock going off Jack and let the last bit of the magazine release into what felt like open air, aiming for Jafari. The slump of a body told me at least someone hit their mark as the gunshots stopped, leaving an eerie echo in the storage room.

“M-Mark?”

The lights were blinding when they finally came back, and my eyes instantly found Jack. He had fallen back in the confusion, red pooling at his shoulder under his shirt. The goons, Jafari too, were in piles in a lopsided circle, unmoving. I let the gun clamor again to the cement flooring, and stumbled to Jack's side, falling to my knees as I made it to him. Disregarding his shoulder, he partially sat up and clasped his arms around me, however he could get it. Out of the corner of my eye, Ross stumbled down the stairs, barely seeing us. But when he glanced our way, where Holly was staring too, he paused.

“Go,” I said weakly, gripping onto Jack back. My eyes met Ross’ and Holly finally began to move and met him halfway up the stairs. “Take the girls away.”

Once they disappeared upwards, I closed my eyes. Jack was sobbing, quietly into my chest. I leaned back, falling from my heels as I pulled him into my lap. “You’ll be okay,” I whispered to him, gingerly setting a hand on the backside of his shoulder, were there was no exit wound.

I thought I thought--” He gasped quietly, trying hard to regain his composure. “ I was gunna have to watch you die, Mark, I-I couldn't, I couldn't..”

“I'm okay. It’s over,” I said, hoping my tone came more even than it felt. I know how he felt, I thought the same thing. Jack meant too much to me, and seeing him in this situation I found myself in still had a terrible pain in my chest. “Let me see your shoulder..”

He finally leaned way, leaning on me as le laid partially in my lap. I unbuttoned his shirt, so I could gently pry the soaked shirt from his wound. He made a noise in pain, but gritted his teeth from making it too loud. 

“M'okay,” He said, gruffly, facing the pain. “I’ll live, Mark..”

His hands unlike mine, were clean of blood, shakily, he had raised one to my face and wiped under my eye.

“I'm sorry,” I said, quietly, my voice overcome by all that had happened.

After another long moment, we had finally stood, with each others' help, and made our way up the stairs. We then closed the door, locked it, and made out way up the side stairwell into my apartment from the storage room, avoiding showing how bloody we both were to the club. 

“Shouldn't you be on a plane?” I asked, helping him up the stairs before I slid open the door.

Jack, gripping my shoulder for support, cleared his throat. “I.. I decided to say, Mark. Stay with you.”

“But you had a gig in Hollywood?”

I helped him to sit on my couch, while I walked forward and into my kitchen. 

“Forget it. Yeah, I love film, but I found that..”

I walked back, the first aid kit in my hands. He seemed to stare till I sat with him, searching my eyes gently. 

“..That I love you more.”

I broke into a grin, forgetting the tin box in my hands.

“You left behind a career in film for me?”

“I.. I knew I wouldn't be as happy. Being here, with you, I haven't felt this happy in years, this, this.. loved.”

“Oh, Jack..” I leaned forward, leaving the box in my lap as I took his cheeks gently and pressed my lips to his.

Although I could feel him smile against my lips, he still passed a muffled groan as we parted.

“Shoulder, right..” I focused back on the first aid kit, unpacking it, though beside me Jack was still sporting an infectious smile. 


	12. Final Climax: Screenplay Version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, guys. I really hate how I ended the last chapter. Like, the last few sentences. It was late and I just wanted to get it all up for you guys, I didn't even realize how crappy and cut off the ending is! Sorry, a hundred times sorry. So, this ends where I rather end it, and maybe after this posts, I'll go back and edit off that last chunk.
> 
> As for the screenplay: This is how I imagined it, when thinking about how I was going to end it months ago. Danny, singing something soulful and well themed, the club goers completely oblivious to the bloodshed downstairs. Cutting from upstairs to them in the final moments, to Holly, to the complete darkness, The crescendo of Danny complementing that final scene.
> 
> So here it is, here's to hoping it formats right. I hope you enjoy this little free bit, due to my curiosity in a new style of writing.

Fade in:

  
  


**EXT. AIRPORT RUNWAY - AFTERNOON**

 

Walking the tarmac to the stairway leading up to the plane door, JACK MCLAUGHLIN, 26, pauses in his tracks. Thoughts race in his mind, memories, wishes for what he wants to happen, but refused to acknowledge till now. Other passengers barely give the shorter man a second look as they pass, not realizing the revelations that are passing the young man. Unnoticing, a flight attendant steps forward to him.

 

FLIGHT ATTENDANT

(offering a concerned smile)

Sir? 

 

JACK, as if finally noticing her approach as she speaks, realizes his mistake.

 

FLIGHT ATTENDANT(CONT’D)

Are you alright?

 

JACK

( _ flustered _ )

I need to go back, I-I..

 

FLIGHT ATTENDANT

( _ Interceding, confused _ )

Go back? Sir, did you leave something behind?

 

JACK

( _ in realization _ )

The person I love.

 

Heart beating out of his chest, JACK looks to the woman for assistance. The FLIGHT ATTENDANT looks charmed to his response and leads him off to find his luggage.

 

 

 

**INT. AIRPORT LOBBY - AFTERNOON**

 

JACK rushes past other terminal-goers, his suitcase being lugged behind him. His eyes frantically search the faces in front of him as he moves, searching, although a prickling feeling finds him that his efforts won't be fruitful. JACK opens one of the glass doors and steps outside.

 

 

 

**EXT. AIRPORT, OUTDOOR PARKING AREA - AFTERNOON**

 

Jack scans still, the faces and cars tumbling by as the sun sets. JACK looks down to his watch, noting the time. He makes the assumption that MARK, by now, is back at the club. 

 

Stepping closer to the street, JACK waves down a cab.

 

 

 

**INT. MARK’S CLUB, SMALL STORAGE AREA - AFTERNOON**

 

MARK FISCHBACH, 26, lies in wait for JAFARI to walk through the storage closet. Plan in mind, he hides in the shadows of the shelving, eyeing the door leading from the club, JAFARI steps in, not noticing MARK.

 

MARK

( _ dark and imposing _ )

I’ve had enough.

 

JAFARI spots him, eyes turning to fire as he sees who owns those words. 

 

JAFARI

( _ warning _ )

Enough, eh? You’re not the only one, Fischbach.

  
  
  


MARK

You need to leave. Permanently. I’m done being the dirt under your shoes as I keep your whole business afloat.

 

JAFARI

( _ stepping closer, threateningly _ )

Oh wow, looks like our bar rat forgot who was in control.

( _ with increasing severity in his words _ )

I can only teach a lesson so many times, Fishbach. Sometimes you can't help killing the rat when he sticks his head right into the trap.

 

JAFARI moves to raise his cane, but MARK intercedes. Although the pain at his ribs yells in retaliation to his sharp movements, he snaps his fists forwards and land two hits at JAFARI’s cheek and nose. JAFARI falters, stumbling backward as MARK keeps his hands raised, ready to fight. JAFARI gingerly touches his nose, blood trickling from his nostril.

 

JAFARI

( _ mockingly even _ )

You think you can just beat me to next Sunday and I'll crawl away? No my boy, that’s your job.

 

JAFARI raises his cane, but before hitting its mark, MARK grabs at the studded end and pulls it from JAFARI’s hand. As MARK shoots forward again, tackling the larger man to the ground, JAFARI makes out a high pitched whistle. MARK gets in a few more punches before the clamor of steps gets closer and he is pulled off of JAFARI, his face much more beaten and bloodied up then a second ago. MARK’s hands are stained red from the attack. MARK struggles, as the two guards that JAFARI called rip his arms to a position behind him, now held tightly and securely.

 

JAFARI

( _ standing _ )

Hold him still, boys.

 

For the first time, JAFARI uses his fists to beat on MARK. His blows land full and hard on MARK'S abdomen and face, as JAFARI aims his attacks artfully almost, enjoying every drop of blood as in begins dripping from the new and old wounds at MARK’S face. Mark lets out a cry, in a mix of pain and frustration, as Jafari continues. 

 

His hits pause after a moment and MARK looks weakly at him, a steely look in his eyes as he waits for what JAFARI will do next. JAFARI, obviously having a hard time as his face stiffens and begins to swell, pulls a bar rag from a container labeled CLEAN, wiping the blood from his hands and then, gingerly his face. He then looks to Mark, the last nerve struck with MARK’S attack.

 

JAFARI

( _ disdainfully _ )

You know what, Fishbach? You’ve stuck your head much too far into the trap to be able to wiggle free this time. I think you’ve done it, that powerful bar has come down on that weak little neck of yours, bar rat.

 

 

 

**INT. MARK’S CLUB - EVENING**

 

JACK enters, eagerly looking about the more familiar faces. DANNY, preparing for the next song, SUZY and HOLLY sharing words before going on separate route around the club, and BARRY, watching him curiously from behind the bar. JACK walks over to him, setting his suitcase between two stools as he leans forward to speak.

 

JACK

(worriedly)

Hey, is the owner in?

BARRY

(trying to be helpful)

Yeah, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Upstairs, possibly.

 

JACK

(chuckling)

Mind watching my case for a minute, then? Quite heavy.

 

BARRY gives him a nod, going back to serving drinks as JACK weaves past the people at the bar and to the door leading to upstairs.

 

 

 

**INT. MARK’S APARTMENT - EVENING**

 

JACK looks about the familiar apartment, tracing the steps he had just walked the night before. Through the living room, to the small kitchen, down the short hall that leads to the bedroom, as we pivot where we stand, watching him zip around the small apartment. JACK returns from the bedroom, a saddened look on his features as he passes the living room again and slips downstairs.

 

 

 

**INT. MARK’S CLUB - EVENING**

 

DANNY, MARK’S best singer, has taken the stage as the music interludes him in, he begins his song  _ Titanium  _ as JACK finds the bottom of the stairs. 

 

DANNY

( _ crooning _ )

You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say, 

I’m talking loud, bit not saying much.

 

Passing the club, JACK turns to the nearby door to the storage room, the last pace MARK could be, the JACK could easily get to. 

 

 

 

**INT. MARK’S CLUB, STORAGE ROOM - NIGHT**

 

Confident this is where MARK is, JACK speaks before he realizes what he sees.

 

JACK

( _ eager _ )

Mark, I’ve decided to...

 

JACK’s words trail off as he registers the scene unfolding. He eyes the blood, how MARK is held, the look of unforgiving hate in JAFARI’s eyes. JACK’s ability to speak leaves him momentarily as JAFARI doesn't miss a beat as he gestures for one of his men to capture JACK.

 

From behind the door, you can hear DANNY continue.

 

DANNY (O.S)

I’m criticized, but all your bullets ricochet,

you shoot me down, but I get up.

 

Struggling, he pulls at the man before a vicelike grip stills him. Wrists grinding together painfully, he returns his gaze to MARK, across the small room, who stares back with anguish.

 

JAFARI

And look, My boy. Your stupidity as gotten that filmboy dead, too.

 

JAFARI gestures and JACK is moved with a shove. Eyes leaving MARK’S as MARK is turned from him, toward the stairwell down to the larger, concrete encased storage area.

 

 

 

**INT. UNDERGROUND STOREROOM - NIGHT**

 

As they descend the stairwell to the storeroom, JACK wiggles against his captor's hands.

 

JACK

( _ panicked _ )

Wait-- wait!

 

A pain in MARK's chest grows from hearing his lover, apparent on his face. He grits his teeth, and steels his expression, for JACK. As they get the end of the stairs and MARK is pushed to an opening between boxes of guns and other illegal items, MARK stares at JAFARI.

 

DANNY song still holds as the scene progresses, loud as if he was in the room.

 

DANNY (O.S.)

I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose,

Fire away, fire away.

Ricochet, you take your aim, 

Fire away, fire away.

 

MARK

Don't touch him, Jafari. Don't you fucking dare. He has nothing to do with me, nothing to do with our beef.

 

JAFARI

Pleading, Fischbach? For this man? You’re joking.

 

JACK is positioned straight across from MARK, barely hidden by JAFARI as he takes centerfold in the scene. MARK struggles to stay calm as he spots panic in JACK’s eyes from behind JAFARI.

 

DANNY (O.S.)

You shoot me down but I won't fall,

I am titanium.

You shoot me down but I won't fall,   
I am titanium.

 

MARK

(struggling to remain even)

He’s innocent. Let him go, Jafari.

 

JAFARI

And why would I care? Why would I let go this man who has obviously seen too much-- seen too much.

(eyes narrowing)

He has seen too much, hasn’t he? And here I thought you finally picked up some broad, maybe even that bitch of a call-girl you defended. No, no. you have a taste for something much more taboo, don't you?

 

DANNY (O.S.)

Cut me down   
But it's you who has further to fall   
Ghost town, haunted love..

 

GUARD 3

(sneering)

More the reason to kill um, boss.

 

At his words, JACK let out a noise of pain. JAFARI stepped aside to see why, now letting MARK see too. GUARD 3 had grabbed a fistful of JACK’S hair and yanked it, hard. JACK now is forced to look upwards, his eyes lowering to find MARK.

 

DANNY (O.S.)

Raise your voice, 

sticks and stones may break my bones   
I'm talking loud not saying much

 

JAFARI

(snapping his fingers at his guards)

Oh how romantic, you can die with each other's blood splattered on the other.

 

At his command, any guards not holding the two still dug into the crates, pulling tommy guns from them before pointing two at JACK, then two on MARK. Tears began to well in JACK’s eyes. MARK, with a painful look, pinches his eyes closed before looking up to JAFARI.

 

MARK

(panic rising)

No! No, please!

(to Jack)

Jack, I’m sorry..

 

DANNY (O.S.)

Stone heart, machine gun,   
Firing at the ones who run,   
Stone heart loves bulletproof glass...

Stone heart, machine gun,

Firing at the ones who run,

Stone heart loves bulletproof glass!

 

FOCUS ON JACK from MARK’S perspective as DANNY crescendos, before FOCUSING IN on the figure against the wall. HOLLY, concern written in her pretty features, hovers around the main power dial, hanging from the ceiling by the Stairwell. MARK, as if reading her mind, gives a sharp nod, barely noticed by everyone but JACK. He stares at MARK, fear overriding any thought on what his nod meant.

 

JAFARI

I’m done with you, boy, fag or not.

 

MARK

(to Jack, soundlessly)

Duck.

 

A beat.

 

THE WORLD GOES BLACK as HOLLY turns the lights off, DANNY’s voice breaking through the silence the hold for a beat.

 

DANNY(O.S.)

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose   
Fire away, fire away   
Ricochet, you take your aim   
Fire away, fire away

 

Gunshots join in with DANNY. The band fades, as DANNY continues in the final chorus. 

 

 

 

**INT. MARK’S CLUB - NIGHT**

 

DANNY sings, gunshots still echoing around, but the happy faces littering the dance floor and tables are as if they hear nothing of the bloodshed downstairs. DANNY, eyes closed, is putting his all into this last part of the song, before his voice trails off into nothing.

 

DANNY (O.S.)

You shoot me down but I won't fall   
I am titanium   
You shoot me down but I won't fall   
I am titanium,   
I am titanium,   
I am titanium…

 

 

 

**INT. MARK’S CLUB, UNDERGROUND STOREROOM - NIGHT**

 

As the lights come on, MARK and JACK are blinded for a moment. The echo of gunshots still ring in their ears, but they both meet eyes. Around them, bodies lay motionless. Blood pools around the GUARDS, including a gasping figure, JAFARI. He takes his last gasp and goes motionless.

 

MARK pays no attention to him. He finds JACK in the carnage, on his back as if he was knocked back in the excitement. 

 

JACK

(quivering)

M-Mark?

 

MARK stumbles through the bodies to him and finds he had been shot in the shoulder. Of course, he looks more shaken up about it then injured. MARK still holds regret and worry in his eyes as he hovered over him. Disregarding his shoulder, JACK tries to sit up, but instead clasps around MARK in a panicked hug, using MARK to stay partially upright. MARK, being much more conscious of his shoulder, wraps his arms around him.

 

From behind JACK, ROSS appears at the top of the stairwell, scanning the scene before spotting HOLLY at the bottom of the stairs. She stares too, frozen at the scene she just witnessed.

 

MARK

(weakly)

Go. Take the girls away..

 

As ROSS quickly slips down the stairs, he clasps his hand around HOLLY’s and pulls her from her trance and up the stairs, to safety. JACK is sobbing, overwhelmed with the multiple emotions surging through his chest. Mark, still careful of his shoulder, holds him tightly and pinches his eyes closed.

 

JACK

(struggling to calm himself)

I-I thought I thought, I would have to-to watch.. Mark, I-I couldn't, I just couldnt.. 

  
  
  


MARK

(voice breaking slightly)

I'm okay, we’re okay..

 

MARK then starts to gently pull away from JACK. 

 

MARK(CONT’D)

Let me see your shoulder.

 

JACK leans away, letting MARK slowly unbutton his shirt and pull the fabric from his blood-soaked shoulder. JACK hisses in pain, gritting his teeth. JACK’s eyes meet the intensely worried and wet ones of MARK at the noise.

 

JACK

(gruffly)

M’Okay. I’ll live, Mark.

 

His hands, dry of blood unlike MARK’s raised to MARK’s cheek and wipe a tear away using his thumb.

  
THE SCENE FADES.


	13. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we conclude the beautiful end to a fic I loved every second of writing. I loved the setting, I loved the characters, I loved how Mark turned into this romantic who thought Jack was going to stay, I loved how Jack has such conflict before finally choosing to stay. I felt like it had an old time romance feel, with the music and the cliched scenes, with the big ol' bad guy (I love Jon I do, I know he's not a baddie). I loved every second of it. I hope you did too.
> 
> Like Renegades, I'm open to requests in this Au. I would absolutely love it. I would absolutely love to hear what you guys think about this whole adventure. I know the screenplay chapter threw a few people off but it was more for fun than anything. This is the final chapter, and I pull this story to a close.
> 
> What to expect next, is what I'm calling Death Of a Bachelor. A little summary: Mark has second thoughts towards marrying his fiance, who had turned into Bridezilla. Jack, his best friend, has an idea-- fake his death to get out of the marriage. No idea when that will begin, hopefully before the new year.

Mark roamed the floors, helping the girls delive r drinks, clapping at the new talent as she joined the stage, welcoming familiar faces like Ross and Holly at the bar. They knew about Mark and Jack, and with some persuading by Holly, Ross didn’t mind.

It came to no surprise to them that Jack moved in.

Speak of the devil. As Mark pulled up drinks for them, Jack came, wiping his hands as he exited the storage room. He looked so different now. His facial hair had grown in just a little, as he didn't need to keep it trimmed for appearances. Instead of the well-ironed shirts and slacks, he wore a similar style to Mark-- unbuttoned slightly, suspenders framing his gently curved body. His hair, longer now, was a ruffled mess and he, nor Mark, cared. 

Jack threw Mark a playful smile as he passed, and Mark almost overfilled the glass he was working on. Following Jack with his eyes, it wasn't long before he served the drinks and darted past Barry and towards the side hall, towards the stage.

They were used to their risky kisses and such there. It was a normal occurrence for the singers or dancers to just spy down the hall and see the two of them, red faced and breathing hard opposite of each other, loitering only feet from the fabric doorway blocking the audience from seeing into the backstage area.

Thankfully, most chose to ignore it.

There was Danny, though. Marks second-hand man and best singer, was as gay as the two of them. The puzzle pieces clicked when one day, in a empty morning where it was just them three, and Danny said something along the lines of ‘playing grab-ass with your eyes”. The friend he always brings in, now much more obviously his lover. And with a little talk, they found that the sly Suzy was in on it too.

Knowing they weren't the strangest relationship in the building, it led to being much more brave without interactions. Due to the general disgust for queer relationships, most saw their little interactions as just passionate business partners, which most knew them both as.

“You followin’ me?” Jack asked, giving the same playful smile even though his tone suggested a sour mood. Mark watched him lean down, grab another medium box of booze, and turn back to him. With a few strides forward Mark pulled the box from him, placing it onto the taller, second stack taking up room. Mark then returned to Jack, weaving his hands to his waist.

Jack gave a low chuckle, a smile still at his lips as Mark, eyes sparking with mischief, gently backed him into the dark wall. Without fear of being caught, Mark placed a deep kiss on his lover's lips, and Jack with no hesitation returned it. 

“Hmm, what are ye up to,” Jack grinned between kisses, as Mark pushed his hands up his sides.

“Just enjoying you,” Mark said between kisses, holding himself close to his lover.

“You told me to move last night's shipment into the storage room,” Jack mumbled, fighting to not close his eyes as Mark moved down his jaw to his neck.

‘And you’re doing a wonderful job at it,” Mark replied, grinning into the curve of Jack’s neck. His kisses got longer, more loving, as he ran up the length of it again, moving up his jaw, and to his lips again.

“Yeah, I think they’re in here--”

Without missing a beat they parted, Jack flushed lightly but hid it by squatting down to get another box as Mark grabbed the one he took for his hands.

As Barry pulled the fabric to the side, they saw who joined him was a well-rounded man, with pink cheeks and round glasses. In his hand was paperwork with ‘Cincinnati Bank’ printed eloquently at the top.

“Mr. Newcrest!” Mark smiled pleasantly, motioning to let them pass. Barry and Newcrest stepped to the side, as Mark led Jack with the boxes, setting them on an empty section of the bar. The banker had a smile himself as Mark and Jack turned to him.

“Good news, boys, your request went through.” He spoke, before setting the paperwork beside the boxes. “Just sign here, and you'll finalize your dual ownership.”

Smiles spread on their faces as Jack clapped his hand on Mark's shoulder. Mark, eager to finalize it, fished a pen from his pocket and eagerly signed in the first available space, handing the pen to Jack, he did the same.

“And there we go, boys. I wanted to come down myself, instead of putting out a call and having you both come down. Congratulations on your business, boys.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mark beamed, leaning on the counter as he handed the paper back to him.

“Of course. Anything for the Fischbach family. Your father was a good man, I’m sure he’s smiling down to you from above.”

His comment made Mark bow his head slightly, a smile still on his face. Jack smiled proudly at him, knowing he was making his dad proud. Mr. Newcrest bowed his head too, before taking his leave. Jack pulled Mark into a side hug as we pivoted to face the club.

“Now what?” Jack asked, an airiness to his tone. Glasses clinked from the bar, and Barry approached their end of the bar and slid two whiskeys to them.

“I think,” Mark said, waving a thanks to Barry before he returned. “It’s time for celebration.” his growing smile had the better of Jack as he handed him a glass, clinking it with his before darting off presumably towards the stage. Jack watched The new girl, Emma, croon and end her song, just as Mark popped his head off to the side and gave her a clap like the rest of the club did. He mumbled something to her, before stepping to take the mic.

“Hello everyone, I’d like to make an announcement.” His eyes found Jack as he scanned the audience, and with his eyes, he lured him closer to the stage. Jack walked forward, glass still in hand, and down the few short steps to the main floor. People who were dancing parted from the dance floor, creating a semicircle facing the stage.

“My business partner, Jack, has been in town for much longer than he expected.I’m glad he wanted to stay, I’m glad I can call him my business partner. And now, I can call him co-owner.” He gestured to me as he spoke, the crowd around us and the tables erupting in a gentle clap, a few ‘woo’s coming from behind the curtains. The band, behind Mark, let off a few celebratory notes, a happy mix of trumpets and upbeat drum tempos before mark cleared his throat.

“And to celebrate, next round's on us.”

Jack couldn't help noticing that the last bit was more zealous, but didn’t mind. He drifted closer, holding out a hand as I helped mark hop off stage.

The rest of the night was a celebration. People reveled in the free drinks, clapped Mark and Jack on the shoulder as they both made rounds around the club. They shared drinks too, getting a little tipsy on more than just the atmosphere. They danced, laughed, even shared some chaste kisses when hidden behind Suzy’s wide, colorful fan of feathers. 

Jack truly felt that this was where he belonged. Not in some studio in Hollywood, not in some small apartment too cramped for his equipment. He belonged here, in the moment, smiling more than he has in years every day, working hard in a different way. Beside Mark, keeping the club together in one piece and having a exorbitant amount of fun while he did it. He felt his heart grow heavy, as Mark pulled him upstairs and into a twirl as they stepped into Mark’s perfectly sized apartment that Jack now stayed in, too. It was obvious, by the little touches he brought. His typewriter, a picture of his family by the hall. Jack barely saw it as Mark continued to dance with him, something much more saucy then the swing they joined into earlier. There was more contact, more pulling Jack close to his hips and then out again in a dizzying spiral as Mark led them down the hall and to their bedroom.

Jack took no time pulling on Mark and letting them both collapse in their bed.  Shoes kicked off at the end, they rolled as Mark let out a happy chuckle. Jack perched himself on top of him, coming close to his ear as he placed a long, warm kiss at his cheek. They didn't care that they were still in their clothes, they wrapped up in each other and kissed, deep, long, and content. When they parted, they didn't really part. Foreheads pressed together, noses smashed against the other's cheek, arms still like a vice around the other. 

Jack belonged here, staying with Mark, only a breath apart as they drifted into a partially drunken sleep. This was the happy life, and neither of them could be more content.


End file.
